Pirates But Only on Sunday, Around Teatime
by TwinEnigma
Summary: A kidnapped family, a gang of power-hungry evil-doers on a quest for immortality, pirate blood and a magic compass... All this on top of detenion with Snape.
1. Prologue

Pirates (But Only on Sunday, Around Teatime)

By TwinEnigma

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_Blanket disclaimer_: Anything you recognize, except for my OCs and the plot, I don't own. I do this for fun and absolutely no profit.

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Prologue

A woman was crouched beside an old desk in a corner of an attic, near a small window. She could hear muffled voices in the room below and thuds as they searched for her. They had captured her sister and brother-in-law when they broke in and she had been lucky enough to get up the stairs. It was fortunate that the intruders had yet to discover the attic door, but she didn't count on her luck to hold out much longer. She had to get out of here, get to a telephone and call for help before they figured out how to get up here.

Deciding to risk moving, she stiffly straightened up and out of her crouch and tried to creep toward the window as quietly as possible. She avoided the creaky floorboard carefully, mentally cursing the fact that her sister and brother-in-law never got around to fixing the bloody thing in all these years. The window was small – a tight fit for a grown woman – but it would have to do and, luckily, there was a rather nice tree branch just within arm's reach. She could have wept for joy, but rather decided not to press her already thin luck and tossed open the window.

Instantly, she found herself under assault by something brown, feathery and football-sized. She cried out, stumbled backwards and promptly fell on her arse with a rather loud and particularly ungraceful thud.

"Shit!" she hissed, shooting a glare at the trapdoor and then back at the offending object – namely, her niece's pet owl. "Bloody 'effing bird!"

_"Did you hear that?"_

_"Back upstairs, boys! She's still here!"_

The woman swore again and scrambled back to her feet. She'd bolted the trapdoor, but it wouldn't hold long against these thugs. The owl hooted, drawing her attention. It was holding up its leg and she could see a letter tied onto the leg. That was it!

"Here, Archimedes... nice bird," the woman whispered, creeping toward the window. The owl seemed to stare at her and cocked its head to the side. She reached out and grabbed the small bird, pulling it close. It hooted in protest, but otherwise didn't struggle. "I need you to do something for me."

_"Here! I found a trapdoor!"_

_"Don't just stand there! Open it up!"_

There was a thud and the trapdoor shuddered.

_"It's locked!"_

_"I don't care how you do it, just get it open!"_

She reached into her pocket and withdrew a battered old wooden compass on a leather cord. "I need you to take this to Eliza, Archimedes," she whispered, slipping the sturdy cord over the owl's head.

The trapdoor shuddered again.

"Please hurry!" she said, releasing the owl out the window. The bird soared away, hooting loudly and she let out a sigh of relief. Now, to make her own escape... Quickly, she leaned out the window and reached for the branch, grabbing it as tightly as she could. She pulled herself forward and, just as she was about to swing out, the trapdoor broke open.

"SHIT!" she screamed, tumbling out of the window and swinging wildly on the branch.

"THERE SHE IS!" one of the thugs shouted, rushing toward the window. "GET HER!"

She could hear them rushing to turn around and get back downstairs and couldn't resist grinning. They'd never get down the stairs in time to catch her! "You will always remember that _this_ is the day you _almost_ caught-!" she started to shout.

_"STUPEFY!"_

The entire world went black and she could feel her fingers losing their grip as her consciousness slipped away.

The woman dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, unconscious. A cloaked man emerged from the shadow of the tree and lowered his wand. He kneeled, pressing his fingers to her neck, and nodded. "She's out, sir."

"Good work, Jones," the thug said from the window. "Check her for the compass."

He leaned down and quickly searched her pockets. "It's not here, sir," the man said finally, looking up.

"She has to have it!" the thug spat, slamming his fist down on the windowsill.

The cloaked man searched her pockets again, when he paused a moment. "Hold on, sir," he said, leaning down. "There's something caught in her shirt."

"Is it the compass?" the thug demanded.

The cloaked man shook his head. "It's a letter," he said, turning it over in his hands. "Addressed to _Mum and Dad_... It looks like we missed one, sir."

"We have to find that compass! Are you certain it's not on her, Jones?" the thug snarled.

Nodding, the cloaked man stood. "Sir, the compass is not here anymore, I'm certain of it. I saw an owl leave the window before she leapt out and I've got a good idea where it's headed."

"Where?" the thug asked through clenched teeth.

The cloaked man pocketed the letter and looked up. "Hogwarts, sir. I will have to show you the way."

"Very well, Jones," the thug sighed. "Tie her up and put her with the others. I'm sure Miss Sparrow misses her family."

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AN: I got the idea for this while starting to write A Memory Lost, actually while I was naming the doctor and the nurse. Several of the named OC first years in Nemesis Memory and DDLLF are main characters here as well. I just liked them far too much and wanted to take a peek at them in their seventh year. This is a stand-alone, though, and takes place _after_ Potter and co have graduated. Reviews will be appreciated, as always. 


	2. Owl Post

Pirates (But Only on Sunday, Around Teatime)

By TwinEnigma

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Chapter 1: Owl Post

It was yet another normal Friday morning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – well, as normal as Hogwarts ever was at this time in the morning on the Friday immediately before a Hogsmeade weekend. Most of the younger students were eagerly chatting away about everything from classes to Quidditch and beyond over their breakfast. The sixth and seventh years, on the other hand, were clutching at their coffee, trying to eat and scrambling to finish last minute additions to their homework at the same time, all the while somewhere in-between the conscious world and semi-slumber. They were no longer in the little-to-moderate homework boat with the younger students, no sir. _That_ had changed immediately after their OWLs. Consequently, much of their free time was spent doing homework in preparation for the upcoming torture known as NEWTs.

The fluttering of hundreds of pairs of wings heralded the arrival of the morning post. Many students had subscriptions to the Daily Prophet or the Quibbler and other such periodicals, so it wasn't too surprising to see the owls lingering while students fished through their pockets for their money. One rather unremarkable owl – small, brown and about the size of a football – gently swooped in through the window, keen yellow eyes scanning the hall for his human. Spotting her at last, the owl went into a looping dive for a landing.

"GAH! Bloody 'effing bird!" cried one Eliza Turner, seventh year Gryffindor, as her pet owl Archimedes nearly knocked her out of her seat. She gave the offending avian an annoyed glare.

Archimedes merely blinked at her, snapped up a piece of bacon from her plate and puffed out his chest, feathers rippling against a study leather cord.

Eliza rolled her eyes and sighed, before her eyes drifted to the cord hanging around her owl's neck. "What's this?" she murmured, more to herself than anyone else, and reached for the cord, following it with her eyes to a familiar battered old wooden compass.

The compass was an old family heirloom that had been in her mother's family for generations and it had been left to her Uncle Jimmy by her grandfather. Her uncle always carried the thing with him, claiming it was a lucky talisman of sorts, even though the stupid old thing didn't even point north. The fact that the compass was broken didn't seem to matter to her uncle, who insisted that just because it didn't point north didn't mean it wasn't working properly. Between her uncle and her mother, Eliza knew of over a half-dozen stories where the compass had somehow indirectly saved either her grandfather or her uncle from a horrible watery doom.

The last time she'd actually seen the compass was literally the day right before she left to go back to school. However, it wasn't with Uncle Jimmy. Aunt Jackie, her mother's younger sister, came over to the house that morning with a package from Uncle Jimmy, containing the compass and nothing else. Aunt Jackie seemed a bit shaken by the whole thing, now that Eliza actually thought about it. She hadn't paid it much mind before, considering that her mother was trying to make sure she was all packed before sunup the next morning and Eliza had been quite preoccupied with running through the house like a madwoman, looking for her Potions textbook – which just happened to have her entire summer's worth of homework stuffed in it.

Eliza carefully lifted the compass off her owl's neck, put it around her own, and took a look at his legs, hoping to see a return letter. Finding nothing tied to his leg, she gave the owl a curious glance. "No note, Archimedes?"

Archimedes ruffled his feathers and went back to stealing her bacon.

"Greedy little git," she groused, grabbing her toast before her owl managed to get to it.

The owl ignored her, as he did just about every time there was bacon to be had, snapped up the last piece on his owner's plate and took off for the owlry.

"Eliza, you coming?" a girl's voice asked from behind her. It was Rosamund, a rather shy girl that she had a few classes with. Though no one would suspect it at first glance, timid skinny little Rosamund was a particularly gifted professional Beater. Every so often during the Quidditch season, she would disappear for some matches and come back from each of them all smiles.

Eliza nodded, shouldering her book bag as she got to her feet, and fell into step beside Rosamund. She had a History of Magic elective first – though how or why she'd ever agreed to sign up for the stupid course was a complete mystery, as she really didn't _need_ to be taking it at all. It was just one of those classes you took to fill time or because you absolutely couldn't stand the thought of voluntarily going into another Divination classroom.

They had just about reached the doors to the Great Hall when the school bells began to toll, signalling the end of breakfast. Both Eliza and Rosamund stared at each other a moment and hurried out into the hallway before the horde of noisy underclassmen completely swamped them. The saving grace of being a seventh year was that you had the benefit of having a far longer stride than most of the underclassmen, something that could get you across the hallway and upstairs with far greater speed. The downside was that those little buggers moved in large packs to make up for their shorter gait and could completely block staircases and hallways.

Rosamund led the way upstairs, staying close to the wall as a group of first years scampered by them in a mad rush, and Eliza followed, scowling at the few that lagged behind. They gave her nervous looks and hurried on. Yet another good thing about being a seventh year: the younger students were deathly terrified of all the seventh years for some odd reason and would scatter to the four winds if a seventh year so much as looked at them cross-eyed. It didn't make much sense to her, but it was rather humorous to see.

Their class was on the second floor, in a stuffy dusty classroom that was always uncomfortably warm. Because of this, undoubtedly half the class would be sound asleep by the end of the period. It didn't help that they had the ghostly Professor Binns, who was notorious for being able to put almost anything alive to sleep. Dry lecture and sleepiness aside, the class was at least somewhat interesting. It was all about cursed artefacts and treasures of the world, many of which were still missing – scattered all over the globe by treasure hunters, thieves and other scavengers.

Rosamund drifted to a desk near the far wall, sitting down quietly. Eliza moved towards the middle back rows and found a desk. Several students were already in the classroom, most of whom having left breakfast well before the bells tolled to avoid the rush. A few of them she'd had classes with ever since first year, while others she only had classes with once in a while. Some of them she knew better than the others – mainly those in her own house – while there were a few people in the class that she'd rather not know at all... mainly the Slytherins.

Addams, the brat prince of the serpents, had caught his reflection in the window and preened, tucking a stray strand of jet-black hair behind his ear. Dark-haired with pale, delicately sculptured features and dark eyes, Addams was probably one of the most handsome boys in Eliza's year. Unfortunately, he walked around like he owned the place and was probably the single vainest creature in the world. Eliza didn't particularly like him too much - or his friend, Vlasko, for that matter.

Vlasko was a lanky Slytherin with aquiline features and a constant scowl. He also had rather nasty opinions about anyone with muggle parents and a predilection for putting Gryffindor's Chasers into the Hospital Wing – something that was rather disturbing considering that Vlasko didn't play Quidditch. What really irked Eliza was that no one could prove that the bloody prat had done anything, even though _everyone_ in the school knew he was the one who was behind it.

At the corner desk in far back row was a rather odd Slytherin girl called Loft, who was discreetly scanning the entire classroom and doodling on her parchment. Loft was a social outcast, even in her own house, though Eliza couldn't fathom why. Loft seemed harmless, if a bit out of touch with reality, but she was one of those quiet artistic types anyway, so being a bit loopy was to be expected. Still, there were rumours about her, some of them pretty odd, that made Eliza wonder how out of touch with reality Loft really was. For example, it was widely rumoured that Loft was not the type of person you ever wanted to be indebted to and that she had something over almost everyone in the seventh year, including Addams and Vlasko.

Eliza snorted softly, rolling her eyes at the thought of such nonsense, and set about pulling out her stuff for class.

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AN: Just a reminder, this story takes place about four years after Harry and co. have left Hogwarts. I haven't decided if this will be HBP compliant yet. It probably won't be, as I started writing this way before HBP came out. Rosamund is based off an ice hockey player I knew. This does have a slight crossover element to it and Kudos to those who have already identified it. Reviews are welcome and greatly appreciated. 


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